


One last time

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Series: One last time [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Sex, Injury, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 21:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili searches for his wife after the Battle of the Five Armies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One last time

You emerged from sleep slowly, as though swimming to the surface from deep underwater. Arching your back in a catlike stretch and yawning widely, you opened your eyes, and the sight that greeted them brought a contented smile to your face. 

Fili lay beside you in the bed, sleeping peacefully on his stomach, in the same position where he had collapsed, breathless and elated, the night before. Even the threat of looming war outside Erebor’s gates could not dampen your newlywed ardor, and when evening fell, you were as eager to offer him refuge in your arms as he was to seek it. 

Your eyes traveled over his bare body with pride of possession, and a blush stained your cheeks at the memory of your raw, hungry intimacy, the way he had touched you, tasted you, brought you to bliss, feverishly called out your name at the height of his own pleasure. Your hand strayed to his broad, muscled back, which still bore the faint tracks of your fingernails. You raised yourself on one elbow to press a penitent kiss to his warm skin, though you knew he would only be proud to wear these marks of passion, and your fingers feathered over his spine, traced slow circles around his shoulder blades.  

His eyelids fluttered open, a smile dimpling his cheeks as his gaze focused on your face. “Âzyungâl,” he murmured sleepily.

“Good morning, my prince,” you whispered, with an answering smile.

He turned onto his side, his arms reaching to pull you close, and you nestled into him, burying your face in his neck, breathing his comforting, musky scent. “I’d like to stay here all day,” he sighed, and you laughed, running your fingers through his mane of blond hair, stroking the braid you had woven into it on your wedding night, after you’d stood together in the dusty, long-abandoned council chamber with only the company as witnesses to the ceremony that joined you.

“Let’s. No one will miss us.”

He chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Would that we could, my One, but I must get up. I need to speak with the others…hear what news there is.”

Fili’s tone had become sober, and you knew the desperate wish he left unspoken: that Thorin might somehow have escaped the grip of the gold lust that had driven him to madness and brought war upon you all. You shifted yourself to look at him, face to face, and caressed his cheek as you pressed your lips to his.

“Everything may yet come right, love,” you said softly. “Don’t lose hope.”

He nodded and returned your kiss, chastely at first, but with growing arousal. His strong hand drifted to your bottom to give it a playful squeeze, eliciting a giggle from you.

“If you don’t leave this bed now, you never will,” you warned teasingly, and with a smirk, he reluctantly left your embrace and picked up his discarded clothes from the floor to dress.

On an early morning only days later, after yet another cheerless breakfast surrounded by the glum faces of Thorin’s demoralized company, you were in the armory tending to the polishing and sharpening of swords and axe blades when Fili burst through the door, startling you. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried by his steely-eyed look.

“Nothing is wrong,” he said. “It’s Thorin…he’s come to his senses. We’re going to fight.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Truly?”

His smile was relieved. “It’s a miracle.”

“I’ll get ready,” you said matter-of-factly, placing the sword in your hand back on its rack.

“No.”

You turned back to him with a curious frown. “What do you mean, ‘no?’”

“Not you,” he shook his head. “I don’t want you to go out there.”

“Fili, don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m going,” you said incredulously. “This is what I do, why I joined the quest to begin with. I proved myself all the way to Erebor, didn’t I?”

“It’s not a question of your skill,” he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. “You are my wife now.”

“And I haven’t turned to glass because I married you, love.”

“It goes against every natural feeling of my kind,” Fili pleaded, clapping his hand to his chest. “You are my One…precious beyond measure…I’m meant to protect you!”

“And I love you for it,” you said quietly. “But I beg of you, do not ask me to stay behind, fearful and waiting, when I can help you. And you know as well as I do that Thorin needs every sword he can muster,” you reminded him. “Please, Fili. You must let me do my part.”

He sighed deeply, looking defeated as he came to take you in his arms, holding you tightly for a long, silent moment. “Be careful,” he murmured in your ear before pulling back to look at you, taking your face in his hands. “For the love you bear me, please be careful. I’d rather die than see you come to harm.”

“Neither of us is going to die,” you said bracingly, turning your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. “We’ll be back home this evening, making love to celebrate the victory,” you grinned, drawing the chuckle from him that you’d hoped for.

“It is not likely to be quite so easy as that.”

“I know,” you said, your tone more somber.

His face turned solemn again as he looked intently into your eyes. “I promise you, this will be the last time. After this, we’ll live a peaceful life…no more warriors, just husband and wife.” A warm smile lit his face. “Perhaps even father and mother.”

The smile that crept across your own face was loving, and you nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

Fili had gripped your hand until the very last moment, when he went to lead the charge at Thorin’s side while you and the rest of the company followed. Sheer chaos greeted you as you plunged through the Front Gate, joining a swarm of dwarves, elves, goblins, and orcs in heated combat. The clang of swords on armor and the sharp swishing sound of arrows filled your ears, and you began to slash your way forward through the enemies’ ranks. You quickly lost track of Fili and of your other companions as they disappeared into the fray, and all sense of time was lost as you concentrated on dispatching your attackers as they came on.

You fought on as the sun rose higher and hotter, and you were more than halfway across the valley when your attention was suddenly drawn by a rush of movement to your right. You turned to see Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin cutting a swath through the combatants as they sped away on Dain’s massive rams, your eyes following their path upward to the stone turret of Ravenhill, from where the Defiler commanded his armies. “Oh, gods, protect them,” you murmured. 

The distraction gave the orc nearly enough time to strike. You looked back just as a mace careened through the air toward you, and, with only a split-second to react, you ducked and attempted to sidestep it. The mace missed your head, but glanced off of your shoulder with a sickening crack. 

Your sword clattered to the ground and you instinctively stumbled backward, losing your footing and falling heavily on your back, the jolt to your injured arm causing an excruciating stab of pain. Your head swam, and sparks of light blurred your vision. As you writhed helplessly at his feet, the orc raised his axe for the death blow, and you whispered, “Fili,” just before the world went black.

When you opened your eyes again, you were surprised to feel the dust beneath your fingers, to blink against the soft light of the late-afternoon sun. Turning your head, you saw the body of the orc lying nearby, axe still in hand, felled by an elvish arrow. All was strangely quiet.

You moved your body experimentally, gasping sharply upon jostling your useless arm. Taking controlled, panting breaths to steady yourself, you lay very still, half wishing for the blessed relief of another faint. As you gazed upward, watching the ravens of Erebor soaring, agitated, over the battlefield, a faint sound reached your ears, and you listened hard, concentrating. It came again, slightly louder, and this time, there could be no mistake. It was your name.

Lifting your head, you saw three figures, small in the distance, walking amidst the bodies that littered the plain. Two were dark, but the sun glinted on the golden hair of the third, and you now heard the anguish in Fili’s voice, pleadingly shouting your name even as he bent to search among the dead. Tears of joy sprang into your eyes, despite your pain, to see your husband alive and well.

“Fili,” you murmured, nearly laughing in your relief, then, so loud that your voice cracked as it left your parched throat,  _“Fili!”_

He froze, looking in the direction of the sound, and you called again, this time raising your good arm to draw his attention. You saw him break into a run and dropped your head back to the dirt, smiling wearily. In a matter of moments, Fili had fallen to his knees beside you to stroke your hair, hold your face in his hands, wet your cheeks with his tears as he gently kissed your lips and touched his forehead to yours, shakily whispering words of gratitude in Khuzdul.

“Âzyungâl, where are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes taking in your ashen complexion and roving your body for signs of injury.

“My sword arm. It’s broken,” you answered through gritted teeth.

“Aye,” he nodded, his fingers hovering just over your shoulder, tracing its line in the air, then turned to call loudly to his brother. “Kili! Find Oin! Her arm needs setting.” Kili waved in acknowledgement and walked quickly toward the Front Gate.

“Are you all right?” you asked, looking anxiously at the dried blood that matted his hair.

“No more than bruises and scratches,” he assured you. “It was the elves, they…well, they saved us. But don’t tell Thorin I said so,” he smiled, and you laughed, then winced.

“And Azog?” 

“Thorin took his head. The line of Durin is avenged.”

You nodded grimly. “Good.”

Fili looked toward the Gate, now surrounded by the rubble of the destroyed stone barricade, to see Oin and Kili bustling toward you, carrying a stretcher between them. “They’re coming,” he said soothingly, stroking your cheek.

You reached with your uninjured arm to grasp his hand. “I’m ready for that peaceful life you promised me,” you said, mustering a wry smile.

“You shall have it,” he vowed.

With a thankful sigh, you looked into his eyes, and even in your wounded state, their calm beauty called to your mind the deep, sunlit pools beneath the waterfalls in Rivendell. “Fili, I love you. With all my heart.”

He raised your hand to his lips, a smile blooming on his face even as his eyes glistened with tears. “As I love you, my princess.” 

Kili ruffled your hair sympathetically, his bloodied face creasing in a tired grin, and Oin knelt beside you, producing a vial of greenish-yellow liquid from his bag that he uncorked and held to your lips. “Drink this, my dear,” he encouraged, “it will help with the pain.” 

A pungent scent reached your nostrils as you gulped the medicine, earthy and herbal on your tongue. Soon, a warm relaxation spread through you, and your eyelids began to feel unnaturally heavy. “I feel sleepy,” you said, puzzled.

“Aye, lass,” Oin reassured you as he rummaged for supplies. “It’s a sedative.” He added, perhaps not as quietly as he imagined, “she’ll be glad of it when we have to take her mail off.”

Your entire body now felt leaden, and the sharp pain of your injury had subsided into a dull ache. Fili still held your hand securely in his, and he was saying softly, “it’s all right to go to sleep, âzyungâl. I’ll be right here with you.”

With nearly all of your remaining consciousness, you nodded and murmured, “I’m sorry, Fili.”

He frowned. “For what, love?”

“I think we’ll have to wait…to celebrate.”

He bent close to you, and his low chuckle and the softness of his lips on your forehead ushered you into restful oblivion.


	2. One more gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili gets a very special Yule gift from his wife.

As you lay in your bed, enveloped in the soft warmth of the blankets, listening to the crackling fire on the hearth and replete with an abundant Yuletide feast, your mind wandered of its own accord to dwell on the changes a year had wrought.

Last Yule, rebuilding the magnificence of Erebor had remained only a fond dream as its few residents still reeled from the battle to reclaim it. Many were yet limping, bandaged, healing of their wounds, and you had been rendered maddeningly helpless by the fragile, mending bones of your shattered arm, remnants of a harrowing encounter with an orc.

Now, the mountain housed a thriving community, an industrious throng of eager workers were slowly but surely bringing glory back to this once mighty dwarven stronghold, and you were healed, whole, happy…and fairly glowing with the good news you had yet to share with your husband.

You watched Fili undress for bed, envious of the flickering firelight that caressed the muscled curves and firm lines of his bare torso. His hair shone where the light caught it, the beads in his braids glinting like tiny lanterns as he moved, and he smiled when he turned to meet your eyes, deepening the dimples in his cheeks that always begged for the touch of your lips.

He slipped beneath the blankets and drew you into his arms, bringing you close for a slow, lazy kiss as the warmth of his skin on yours radiated through your body, making you smile against his lips and curl into him in happiness. Fili’s own lips curved in a grin, and he sighed as you tucked your head beneath his chin.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the feast?” he murmured.

“Mmm,” you nodded. “It was wonderful. Did you?”

“Aye…it was something out of the tales Thorin used to tell us, when we were small.”

You smiled at this fulfillment of his childhood imaginings, and the two of you fell into contented silence, with only the shifting of the burning logs in the fireplace to be heard while his fingertips trailed back and forth over your shoulder blades.

“Fili,” you said at last, quietly, “I have another gift for you.”

He moved his head on the pillow to look into your face, his brows knitted. “Another gift? But we’ve already exchanged our gifts.”

“I know,” you smiled. “But there is one more.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested, reaching to smooth your tousled hair away from your face.

With your heart beating heavily, you clasped his hand in yours and pressed his palm to your lips before guiding it to rest low on your stomach, over the smallest beginning of a curve that hinted at the secret within.

His face was clouded with confusion for a fleeting moment before the light of understanding dawned.

“Are you…” His voice was hushed, almost reverent. “Are you with child?”

“I am,” you nodded, beaming.

“Oh, azyungâl,” he breathed, his hand moving to cradle your cheek as he peppered your lips with joyful kisses, a dazed, irrepressible grin lighting his face when he looked into your eyes again. “We made a child.”

“That we did,” you laughed.

“I’m going to be a father,” he said, in an awed tone, and he propped himself up to pull the blankets back to expose your body to his view. Happy tears filled your eyes to see him lean to press his lips to your belly, then gently rest his cheek against its soft skin, and you slid your fingers through his hair with tender strokes as he gazed at you with a watery smile.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” you asked, as he returned to lie by your side, tucking the blankets over you once more and nestling you into a snug embrace.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shook his head. “I want whatever we have…and I can teach either one to handle a blade,” he added teasingly.

“Indeed,” you chuckled, and felt him smile against your forehead.

“It’s going to be wonderful,” Fili whispered, and you smiled, feeling as thought your heart could burst of its fullness. You raised your head to look into his radiant face, to kiss his dimpled cheek.

“Yes it is.”


End file.
